Reality
by Death by Bambi Tapes
Summary: Mush reminisces about Newsie life and how everything fell apart."There isn't anything left to sing about anymore, though, and that's the tough reality."


Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Newsies, poor poor me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yesterday I was walking down the street and I bumped into Kid Blink. I don't think he recognized me, hell, I barely even recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I hear he's been going by his real name lately, all of us have in fact. Except me.  
  
Yeah, people laugh now when I introduce myself as Mush, but it's hard for me to sever that last tie holding me to what we all had back then. Carryin' the banner.  
  
God, how long has it been now? Jeez.nearly five years. It was a slow to happen but, well as they say 'nothing last forever'.  
  
But that might have if only people weren't so STUPID! If only people had common sense, if only people cared, if only people were more CAREFUL!  
  
If only Jack, the glue that held us all together, hadn't gone out and gotten himself shot.  
  
Yeah, that's right, shot. He picked a fight with the wrong guy, and said wrong guy pulled out a gun and blew his stupid brains out.  
  
But that's no way to talk about the dead, is it?  
  
We tried for a while to keep things together after that, and we had ourselves fooled that it would work. Some of us were clinging desperately, some just letting fate run its course. All believing that we were going to stay together.  
  
Spot was the first one to leave. A month or so after we buried the Cowboy he stopped showin' up. We shrugged it off, he was the leader of Brooklyn- he had more important things to do than hang out with us over here in Manhattan. He had things to run, people to soak, papes to sell.  
  
David was our unofficial leader after Jack died. We looked to him for about two month, he stuck with us even after Spot left. The last of the amazing trio, Jack's right hand man.  
  
Then, one morning, David showed up at the World without his newsie hat. His dad had healed, he said, and he was going back to school. Going off to become something better, to create a better life for himself. Better. What could be better than what we had? Sure, we didn't have any money but that didn't stop us, did it? He was going to go meet 'better' people, live a 'better' life and not work his butt off for a couple pennies a day.  
  
In retrospect I think we were all jealous of him, I was at least. I don't know about the others though. All I know is when he left for his first day back at school, he sported a shiner, courtesy of Kid.  
  
Then, slowly, we started drifting away. Pie Eater, surprisingly, left quickly, as soon as we began to feel things slip away. He was nice enough to leave us a note, though, after slipping away into the night.  
  
We all had our glorious good-bye speeches. Boots left, saying to all that it was fun while it lasted, promising to keep in touch as he walked out the door.  
  
As far as I know, no one's heard from him since. I sure haven't.  
  
Snitch crept away like 'Eater, Snipeshooter called good-bye as he hopped the train to Boston to be re-united with some long-lost relative. At least one of us had a happy ending.  
  
Crutchy hopped the train too, but to travel much futher than Boston. Santa Fe of all places. Go figure. He hummed a couple bars of some song as he limped by, but when I asked him about it he just shook his head and said "Nothin'. Just fogettta 'bout it."  
  
And then Skittery left.  
  
He stood in the center of the bunk room proclaiming that we were all children for staying her, that we were fools for clinging and that he wished us all good riddance. He stood there laughing at us, mocking us, and for those two minutes I came the closest I had ever come to being willing to kill someone. He left quickly, though, thankfully.  
  
I hate him.  
  
He made everyone realize that he was right. "We'se getting' too old for this.", some said, "Aw, c'on we'll always be friends. See yas around sumtime.", others promised, lying blatantly, "Get a life, Mush.", others advised me.  
  
I had a life though. One that I loved and one that I so much that it causes pain to run like ice through my veins.  
  
I guess I was the only sentimentalist, though, 'cause no one else seems to care.  
  
I still see Racetrack sometimes, though. But he isn't a link to the past, he's changed too much for that. He's got a goil, a cute little blonde, and he seems real happy with where his life is going.  
  
Sometimes I walk by the Newsie's lodge, and I hear Kloppman's son yelling at all the boys to get outta bed. Kloppman died a year or so ago. Me and Race were the only ones who went to the funeral.  
  
Danton's son's ledged there, he decided to be a newsboy like his heroes. Some heroes we all turned out to be. For heroes there's always happily ever after, They beat the bad guys, find a goil, and live forever and everyone's still friends.  
  
But there's no happily ever after on the streets of New York City.  
  
What I want is to wake up to the sound of Kloppman's voice griping good- naturedly about lazy kids sleeping their lives away, see Jack alive and beating up the Delancey brudders, hell maybe even be there as we all burst into song, all reunited and together again.  
  
There isn't anything to sing about anymore, though, and that's the tough reality.  
  
I gotta grow up and face life.  
  
The Newsies, the large family group where everyone was brothers, well-  
  
Well, they're dead.  
  
Dead. 


End file.
